


cold bark in the air

by mrecookies



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Family Fluff, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrecookies/pseuds/mrecookies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of war is silence, noise, and the niggling feeling of dust in the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cold bark in the air

The aftermath of war is silence, noise, and the niggling feeling of dust in the eye. A phantom rock at the bottom of a shoe. Waking up in the middle night to the sound of mortar fire to the drip of salt from skin.

*

Ray gets out of the Corps, gets his brains back from the rusty locker they were kept in, gets going. His paddle party is a brief blip of insane normalcy, filled with his brothers and not enough booze, and then _life goes on_.

What the fuck, really.

He gets a job at a mechanic’s, because he’s always been good with his hands. He keeps in touch with Brad, worries about the fuckers who’re dumb and brave enough to go for another tour in Iraq, and fixes cars. Motorcycles remind him of Brad, so he talks to them like a bored, naggy housewife. Carl, his esteemed fellow colleague in grease and gears, thinks he’s hilarious.

As for big muscle cars, they remind him of Walt.

*

"When you gonna bring back a nice girl for your momma, Josh Ray?" His mom brandishes a spatula, rosy-cheeked from Missouri’s shitty summer heat. Bacon sizzles in the pan while he tries to think of a way to phrase that he likes all kinds of ass, not just trim. And that he might have a scandalous, gay love for an ass belonging to a blue-eyed farmboy currently serving his country deep in enemy territory.

"Well, momma," Ray says, licking his lips at the bacon and eyeing the spatula cautiously, “what if it’s a boy I’m bringin’ back?"

The spatula swings downwards. Ray flinches. Momma Person looks at him with crossed arms, the bacon flipped and still sizzling. She says, “Is he nice?”

Ray thinks about a smile that turns him into a gooey teenage girl, glitter nails and all, except not _literally_ , and nods.

*

The line crackles every three seconds, and they only have a minute more, tops, before Walt has to go, but Ray’s content to say nothing. And it’s proof of how big his gay love is for this stupid hick that he really keeps his fucking mouth shut. Of course, he’s jacking off while Walt details exactly what he’s going to do to Ray when he comes home, but hey.

Ray never looks a gift dick in the mouth.

*

It started after they came back the first time. They were both drunk. The morning after, Ray demanded a proper courtship, under wraps of fucking course, while Walt groaned and went back to sleep. Pussy. Ray’s paddle party was their sixth date. He still fondly remembers the bruises Walt gave him after he flirted with that hot stripper at the bar.

*

"I’m not goin’ back," Walt says breathlessly.

In a moment of absolute restraint, Ray simply nods. And then drives his hips upwards because a second ago his cock was in Walt’s fucking mouth and he really needs it back there.

Walt just chuckles and swats it away—actually _swats_ it fucking away—and slips another finger into Ray. “I’m stayin’, you hear?”

Ray gets it. Walt’s not going anywhere. “You’re not going to get shot at by or shoot incompetent fucknuts, I get it, now move your ass, please, Jesus Christ almighty and fuck me!”

*

Momma Person purses her lips and declares Walt underfed, then raps her spatula on Ray’s knuckles. He yelps and regrets buying her a new stainless steel one. A wounded look earns him a quick kiss on his injured knuckles from Walt.

They inhale the bacon burgers and fries, pleasing Momma Person to no end, then escape to watch the stars in the backyard. It’s not safe in Missouri, even though Walt’s out of the Corps now, five weeks and counting, but here, in Momma Person’s backyard at eight o’clock, it’s safe enough.

Walt’s thumb rubs against the black spot of grease that seems to have become a permanent fixture in Ray’s palm.

**Author's Note:**

> Orginally posted on [my tumblr](http://mrecookies.tumblr.com/post/56430064345/cold-bark-in-the-air) for the lovely hasserole.
> 
> Inspired by Sea Wolf's _The Orchard_ , from which the title comes from.


End file.
